


Applied Ethics

by Fr0st6yte



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst, Dubious Ethics, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Overprotectiveness, Scott Needs To Keep His Cool, Summary In Progress, This whole fic is a Work In Progress, Title In Progress, an overly long discussion about ethics, brothers being brothers, but not til later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 05:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fr0st6yte/pseuds/Fr0st6yte
Summary: It was one mistake. Three words, one missing brother, and four panicked ones. It wasn’t supposed to happen, and no one blames the slip-up. But apologies and forgiveness doesn’t halt the snowballing consequences.Or, a story of community, conviction, commitment, capitalism, conflict, and corruption.





	1. Egoism

**Author's Note:**

> It’s just an idea at this point. If people are interested, I’ll write more. When? After Aug 15, coz other due dates. But, I think I’ll only be writing this if it actually ends up being something people want. 
> 
> This’ll be a mix of TOS and TAG - mainly taking in the fact that in TOS, secrecy is maintained while in TAG… not so much. Couple of other things will be clearly TOS - you’ll see later on. I’m also a pundit of Virgil being older than John. Just so we’re all clear on that. 
> 
> Also, my John and Gordon interactions specifically are influenced by SpaceSpirit's. Her stuff on FF is amazing. Go check them out.
> 
> So anyways… Onto the story.

 As a rule, Scott Tracy didn’t pick favorites. Not among his planes, and certainly not among his brothers. He loved them all equally, and trusted all their abilities, from strong, steady Virgil to speedster Alan. But as he watched John’s vitals flash on his HUD, he couldn’t help but wish Gordon was the one with them, not the middle child.

“Any visual, Two?” he asked, trying - and failing - to keep any panic out of his voice. At Virgil’s negative, he tried paging John again, hoping that something - anything - would come through. Taking One on another sweep around the wreckage of the felled ‘Bird, he debated the merits of diving down to join Virgil.

“When are we getting back to land?” The demand broke through his trajectory calculations and Scott barely managed to suppress a groan, carefully placing One on auto, and turned around to face the rescued manager.

The rescue had started as routine. The klaxon had rang, and all four earth-bound Tracy's had arrived to the sitting room, and Alan, spending his shift up in Five, had announced a major earthquake in the Atlantic, a whooping 7.6 on the Richter scale. Far enough, he had explained, that no major settlements were in danger, but a few small islands were within tsunami range. Then came the problem. There was a cruise ship, filled with nearly 3,000 men, women, and children, were well into the tsunami range, and were already barely staying upright. GDF were on route, but the Thunderbirds were faster.

Scott had wasted no time in calling the assemble, but the issues started when Virgil grounded the still-sick Gordon. Recovering from pneumonia, Gordon had protested, citing that this was a job for Four, but Scott had taken one look at his pale face and swaying figure, and ordered him down.

And so John, still trying to earn back his earth-legs, suited up and took control of Four.

“Don’t scratch my ‘Bird, space-case!” Gordon had shouted after his brother’s retreating - stumbling - back.

Gordon’s gonna be pissed, Scott thought, as he looked back down at the wreckage.

Scott had reached the cruise ahead of Two and instantly knew that there wasn’t any way they could get everyone off into the life boats. They’d have to stabilize the boat until the GDF finished with the islands and got there with larger carriers. Maybe, Scott had thought, they wouldn’t need Four after all. Once Virgil and John arrived, Scott had quickly ordered them to drop their hooks, and together, Two and One managed to attach themselves to the cruise, pulling it up and slowly, pulled it out of the major destruction zone. Brain and Alan, in their ears, mapped out safe paths for them, telling them how far they needed to go to get to relative safety. Everything was going fine.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

Because there was always a disgruntled manager, supervisor, someone who didn’t appreciate something ruining their business and just had to blame the disaster on someone that wasn’t themselves.

And in the middle of a large tsunami, with large waves hitting the ship every second, threatening to bring the cruise and everyone on it down under the waves? Disgruntled manager equals major problems.

Such as marching up to the ship’s wheel instead of staying below deck. Such as slipping in the water and tumbling, head first, over the ship’s railing and bringing a couple of his employees with him.

“Thunderbird Four!” Scott had commanded, focusing on keeping One pulling the ship.

John, it seemed, had already been on his way, but he still replied with a curt, “Thunderbird is go.”

It had taken the astronaut only a couple minutes to find the employees. A couple more and two of four were being sent up to Virgil, when the manager somehow managed to dislodge himself from his seat. Scott had just heard Virgil’s shouts before he launched himself out of One, jet pack firmly attached across his shoulders. He managed to catch the screeching man just before he hit the water and rocketed them both up to One, dumping him in the back and reasserting himself in his seat and taking control of One, once again. John had disappeared under the rising waves, rescuing the last two employees, barely bobbing in water in their lifejackets. GDF was on their way, and Scott and Virgil had managed to tug the cruise further away from the earthquake origin. The rescue was almost over.

It was then that things took an even worst turn. The earthquake had hit hard enough to cause much of the ocean floor to weaken, and while John was proficient at Four and a decent swimmer at that, his home was Five and not the tiny submersible. Controlling it in the strong currents of a category 8 tsunami?

Only Gordon could have successfully done that.

John had managed to get both men onto Four and was piloting his way back to Two. Virgil was preparing to bring the capsule back up, when Alan suddenly screeched in their ears, “John! Bogey at 7 o’clock!”

“I can’t -“ was the last thing Scott had heard before his brother and the ‘Bird were ripped apart from the gigantic piece of rock hurtled to them.

The static in his ear muted all other sounds, even his own voice. He spun TB1 around, searching for his brother, barely noticing when GDF cruisers landed in the water and started shuttling the cruise’s passengers. The water was already calming, but John was no where to be seen.

“John? John!” Gordon’s voice echoed, mingling with Virgil’s, “Thunderbird Four!” Scott felt his heartbeat in his throat, and the manager’s interruption was unwelcome.

“Once we find our missing teammate,” he growled, fighting the urge to throttle the man. Before he could reply, Scott heard Alan’s voice in his ear.

“Scott, I’ve detected life signs. Virgil, 500 meters south-east.” Flipping around, he whipped One around next to the stationary Two. “Scott, he’s coming up.” Peering down, he could barely make out two blue-clad figures bobbing out of the water. With a growled warning for the manager to stay put, Scott jet packed down, and felt his fear increase when he saw John was limp. Virgil was barely keeping them floating. The two eldest Tracy’s shared barely a worried glance before Virgil passed their unconscious brother up, before diving back down. Leaving the pilot to find the other two crew members, Scott flew John back to One, worry only microscopically diminishing when he saw John’s rising and falling chest.

“Alan, scan?” he asked, hauling himself back onto his ship, and falling to his knees beside John’s prone body. The breathing he noticed earlier was unsteady and an arm flopped wrongly.

“Lowered heart-beat, Scott. Too low,” came the reply, and Scott instantly lowered his ear to his brother’s chest. He could hear the slight wheezing and felt his panic rising again. Flinging off both his and his brother's helmets, he fought to keep his breathing steady.

“Possible pneumonia,” he reported into his open comm, distantly noticing the lack of questions from anyone. “Probable water in his lungs. He’s not breathing right.” The worry was clouding his mind, and he quickly said, “starting chess compressions.” Turning so he straddled his brother’s hips, he rose to his knees and placed his hands carefully on his brother’s upper chest.

“Stop! Scott, don’t!” The shout in his ear propelled him back, and he started shouting at Gordon before he continued. “Turn him on his side. You need to get the water out first!” Realizing his brother’s wisdom, and cursing his own stupidity, Scott pushed his panic to the back of his mind and focused on the task. Just another rescue. Nothing else. He rolled John over, and started thumping him on his back, willing him to throw up the water.

“Come on, Johnny,” he muttered. “Work with me.” He continued, strikes getting harder as panic resettled in. “John,” he snapped. “You’re not gonna drown. Gordon’s never gonna let you hear the end of it.” Using all his strength, Scott gave him one might punch, near-shouting, “John Tracy!”

As though his shout rejunivated him, John started coughing, water spilling out, and Scott instantly held him steady as he heaved. “There you go, Johnny,” he encouraged. “Just let it all out.” An eternity later, John flopped back, breathing unsteadily, but deeply, and Scott sat back, breathing heavily himself. “Gee damn,” he breathed. John kept his eyes closed, and didn’t answer. Scott felt his breaths deep in his own chest, and his hands were shaking but he ignored both of them in favor of quickly examining his brother. He was still concerned about the shivers racking the prone body, but he wouldn't be able to do anything aboard One. Wanting to rest himself, he pulled himself together, and got John settled in one of the seats behind him, immobilizing his arm. Hearing everyone’s sighs of relief when he told them of John’s condition was enough to relax himself enough to pilot One, as it and Two traveled back to land. John stayed asleep beside him.

Unfortunately, neither man heard the shock whisper of, “Tracy?” behind them.


	2. Kant's Categorical Imperative

“I’m fine.” Gordon watched, wishing he had popcorn to go with the entertainment but he and Alan had ran out the morning before. No matter - the absolute glee he felt more than covered it. 

The Smother Twins were in their element, prodding and nattering about an irate John, while talking over his head. They were absolutely not listening to any of his increasingly frustrated statements and Gordon knew that nothing anyone could say would divert them from their mission. 

That mission? To send John into a frenzy. At least, it seemed that way to Gordon. 

He glanced at his watch. Still three more hours. John had to break by then. Gordon had a week’s worth of chores riding on it. Glancing at the flaming blue-green eyes on John’s face - Virgil forced on John’s hated glasses, another source of disagreement between them - Gordon was certain he’d win. 

It looked like Alan was realizing that too, because the naive boy hesitatingly tried interrupting Scott as the oldest placed - slapped - the back of his palm on John’s forehead, ignoring the hiss of anger from the middle child. “Scott, I think…” Gordon sat back, letting his youngest brother try to salvage the situation. Not even worried about the obvious cheating, for, as he had originally thought, there was no deterring his oldest brothers. 

Not for lack of trying, though. 

“Virgil!” John snapped finally, as the team medic prodded his arm. “It’s been nearly a week -” 

“Five days,” Gordon supplied helpfully. He grinned at the dirty look he received. 

“Nearly a week, and it’s healing fine. You’ve looked at it. Brains’ looked at it. Even Scott’s had his turn! If the blockhead can see that it’s healing, you can too. Just leave me be!” He added as Scott still hovered at his head. “Fever’s two days gone. No concussion. Done now?” 

“No.” 

“Scott!” John nearly growled, trying to rise, only to be stopped by two pairs of hands on his shoulders. At his wince, Gordon supposed the hands weren’t really needed. His bruised ribs would be giving him enough trouble. He briefly entertained the notion of telling Virgil of his newly discovered fact, but John - omniscient being that he was, even off Five - read his thoughts and sent another glare his way. Gordon merely smirked back. 

John’s own fault for destroying Four. 

And for getting himself hurt. Gordon never managed to get so banged up in Four. 

Well, maybe on the rare occasion. Once in a blue moon. 

Hey, he was the impulsive one - acting without thinking and all that. Located just below Scott on the reckless chart. And he was perfectly happy in his safe, second place spot. He wasn’t crazy enough to try and take on Scott’s lead. 

He briefly wondered how Alan was  _ fourth  _ on the list. Even in orbit, John managed to get himself into trouble. Only difference was that usually he didn’t have to deal with the direct repercussions. Sneaky bastard always got away. 

Not today, Gordon thought gleefully. Today, Johnny boy was getting his due. And no one was going to stop it. Grandma, Kayo, and Brains had all ignored John’s pleas and had already left the lounge quickly. Gordon was sure he saw barely suppressed laughter on the first’s face. 

Watching him snap and snarl at their oldest brothers, Gordon leaned back on his seat. He caught Alan’s eye and his younger brother’s hologram turned to him. Giving him his biggest smirk, Gordon inclined his head in the direction of the closet door just off the lounge. Alan clearly read his intentions, and signed off quickly, scowling heavily, just moments before a shoe went flying. 

Ah, and there was explosion. 

* * *

Both Scott and Virgil beat hasty exits after the shoe throwing incident. Leaving John and Gordon talking in the lounge, they headed towards Dad’s old office. Scott practically threw himself at the chair behind the desk while Virgil walked over to turn on a screen.

Seeing his older brother’s exhaustion, Virgil shook his head. “He’s not wrong, you know. He’s almost healed. His arm will take a while longer, but his fever’s gone and there’s no infection.” Scott merely waved away his statements. 

“If we don’t keep him down, he’ll go and break his other arm.” 

Virgil chuckled. “Point. Gordon’ll keep an eye on him.” 

“Gordon?” Scott finally raised his head to shoot Virgil an incredulous look. “You sure the two of them aren’t plotting with Alan?” 

“Nope,” Virgil responded cheerfully. Not that he was going to tell him what Virgil had come up with, with the duo. The bookends of the Tracy brothers were in for a surprise. How Scott always forgot how much trouble Virgil, John, and Gordon got into together, Virgil had no idea, but he always paid for the lack of foresight. 

But the news on the Holoscreen quickly washed away all thoughts of pranks from his mind. 

**ANOTHER FAILURE: THE CARELESSNESS OF IR**

“Why don’t you turn that off?” Scott growled, but his eyes remained glued on the screen. Virgil shook his head, turning back to the news without a word. 

_ “... two of my colleagues.”  _ Virgil could see a decent amount of regret on the manager’s face, but any sympathy for the man disappeared with his next words.  _ “The International Rescue officer was negligent. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. He could have saved them, but he thought first of getting himself out after they were hit. They may be called Rescue, but they failed to rescue them.”  _

_ “You’ve heard it…”  _ The reporter continued on, but Virgil finally gave into his irritation and muted them. 

“Negligent.” Scott’s voice was full of derision, and Virgil couldn’t find it within him to chide him. There was no defense he could offer. “Only one who was negligent was that man himself.” 

“It’ll blow over,” Virgil tried. “Two people died. It’s a tragedy and they are allowed their anger.” 

“Almost a week, Virg. It’s all the same narrative, over and over again.” 

“Two people, Scott.” 

“I know.” His voice was quieter now, most of the anger faded from his voice. “God, I know. John’s been having nightmares, you know.” No, Virgil hadn’t known that, and he fought the instinctual urge to go check on him. “But we can’t save everyone. We all know that.” 

“Doesn’t make it easier.” 

“No, it really doesn’t.” 

“Are you going to tell John about this?” 

Scott shook his head. “It’ll be worse, you know it.” 

Now that, Virgil did know. It wasn’t a new position for IR. They were rare situations, thank God, but not new. Once with Alan, and once with Virgil himself. Insufficient information, new developments. Small mistakes and lives lost. 

There had been blame to go around. Arguments and nightmares. Alan stopped eating. Virgil wouldn’t leave the gym. Both times had been dark for the Tracy clan, with a few news outlets claiming the organization was slacking. Telling John would make it worse, he knew. It had pushed Alan over the edge, and he didn’t doubt it would have a similar effect on John. Virgil himself had refused to go near the internet, afraid of the justified condemnation he’d find.

This was better quietly dealt with, between the two oldest. 

Or really, Lady Penelope. The two of them would take care of their own, and leave their reputation to her to iron out. 

Scott seemed to read Virgil’s question before he even thought of asking. “She hasn’t sent anything new. Just well wishes for John.” His face seemed to fall even more. “I think this is worrying her too.” 

It was worrying everyone, but telling Scott that wouldn’t help. “Lady Penelope? Nah, she probably has a ten step plan already in action, full of puppies and tea and biscuits.” Vigil ignored the dread in his stomach, forcing a grin on his face. “Don’t be a worry-wart. Everything’ll be fine.” 


End file.
